CharactersLord Aldradoc Ravensden: Theme
The Lord of the castle is an eloquent, diplomatic man named Aldradoc Ravensden. He is 5 foot ten with fair hair, a long drooping moustache and an imperious face. He has a wife, Hanath, and a young son, Barrivendos. He prefers to wear clothes that are comfortable and finely-made but by no means luxurious or extravagant. He is a calm, dutiful traditionalist who is paranoid about the safety of his family and home, and is also a skilled duellist with a sword when he needs to be. He rules all of the surrounding land as far as the western coast, bounded to the north and east by a mountain range and to the south by a river, and has called the rulers of all the other kingdoms to his fortress to discuss peace and trade agreements.

Echard Schur:
Echard Schur is the third son of Berthold Schur. He is nearing his late 30's and his only accomplishments are brothel rumors (not ones he would be proud of) and a litany of poorly gambled inheritance he has yet to actually inherit. He is dressed expensively, if not tidy. As stated by himself, he is 5'11". In actuality he is closer to 5'8". Well, 5'6" if standing barefoot. While his physical stature may be left striving for loftier ambitions, he is never the less no small man. He is barrel chested and both thick of neck and arm. He smells of the dark-brown roots which he often chews. Leaving him imparted with a sweetly-sour aroma of his chew roots, perfume, and the tragic infrequency of his personal hygiene. His one attractive feature is his strong jaw, which is adorned by a ill groomed, albeit glorious, set of peppery muttonchops. Sadly, the follicular vanity of his face is only contrast to his greased, overly long, and thinning hair.

Count Driden Defleur:
Count Driden Defleur He is about 6’1 and has black hair and light blue eyes. He is about 37 years old and is from the distant province Duskhallow. Much like Duskhallow, he dresses in a dark suit and has a silver cane with an obsidian raven on top. He also wears a top hat and a monocle. He is very grim and a loner. He is very intelligent but often intimidates people (just by stature and personality, not on purpose).

Lord Barbissar Tisk:
Lord Barbissar Tisk hails from the eastern region of Skagaskon, beyond the mountain range. From Jokulsa, the capital city of his lands, Tisk oversees the continent's most prolific mining operation. He looks to expand his trade routes to new markets, particularly in distant lands, and renew trading agreements with his neighbor Lord Ravensden. A dispute between their family, of an origin lost to the many years since then, saw any cooperation between the two kingdoms stopped. Tisk, being primarily a man of buisiness, intends to rectify, as he calls them, the ''past mistakes of his short-sighted ancestors'', and it is with this in mind that he accepted the invitation to the Castle.
Victor Rosst:
One of the three chief military commanders of the Dairann region. The people of Darirann are known to be militaristic and ones to rattle sabres at the other nations and regions. It is said that the perfect courtier should be one who is imposing upon the field of battle and yet graceful during peacetime. Rosst most certainly is not the latter. Gruff spoken, burly, a wild mane of black hair and a bush of a beard, out of armour he stands at an impressive 6ft. Not the softness of silvered tongues for this warrior, but the harsh shouted cries of a commander of men. Quite why Dairann decided to send him rather than a more civil diplomat is debatable. It is likely that they believe a show of force and bluntness will curb any frills and lace from softening and over flowering the meeting.
Cordelia Rekkefølge:
Cordelia Rekkefølge hails from the distant lands of Sovnskrine. Her quiet nature, coupled with her relative lack of age and short stature make for an unassuming appearance for outsiders. But it would be wrong to believe that the small young woman reading by the fire is a pushover in any situation. This simple appearance masks a sharp intellect and a fierce refusal to back down when she feels the need. She is deeply cynical and views the noble lifestyle with distaste, sharing her people’s disdain for the elitist culture of other societies. Differing from some of the other participants in the negotiations, she is not of nobility, although her position in her people’s society could be construed is its equivalent. Rather she has been selected due to her suitability for the task. Despite her dislike of the idea of nobility, she sees the negotiations as what they are: a good opportunity to improve relations and trading, and so is determined to make the best of them.

King Gheleon IV: Theme:Far Horizons
Amiddle-aged man of muscular build, standing around 6 feet tall, Gheleon’s firm facial features are accented by his two brilliant blue eyes. Atop his flaxen-haired head rests a simple silver crown studded with vibrantly hued rubies that his nation is famous for. Gheleon is dressed in clothing befitting a king, though not overly lavish as he is more concerned with function over form. At his side, the king carries a sword as is custom for those in his kingdom. Though designed with an ornate hilt, it is clearly more than simply a ceremonial symbol. Gheleon is as modest in nature as he is in appearance. Predisposed to integrity and respect, the king cares for his kingdom and people above all else. The king is well-spoken, with his rich, deep voice complementing his simple yet regal demeanour. Though eager to establish trade agreements with the other dignitaries, Gheleon firmly believes that while a king should not seek out war, he must always be ready for it. Gheleon the IV rules the kingdom of Ironfell, nestled opposite the mountain range that borders Ravensden’s lands. Ironfell’s people are natural hunters and farmers, having lived off the land for generations. Their primary source of trade consists in furs, rubies, and other minerals that they mine from the mountains in their territory. However, the nation tends to be very isolationist and is extremely wary of the other provinces surrounding them. The capital of the province is Falconreach, a castle-city built into the mountainside.

Lord Aldradoc Ravensden awoke from a tormented sleep. It was the morning of the negotiations that could potentially decide the fate of the whole kingdom of Calderon. Rulers of petty kingdoms from all across the earth would be travelling to his castle of Ravenscroft to discuss trade deals that would prevent any further wars occurring. Indeed for many years now conflict had raged across the continent, with fortunes swinging back and forth as the various realms all vied for power.

Calderon had had its fair share of victories and defeats, and had just emerged bloodied but victorious against the vicious raiders of Sovnskrine, who had attempted to seize three of the five large port towns on Calderon’s coastline. Those men were savage in battle, yet respected the mannerisms and beliefs that the people of Calderon shared. While there was little in the way of a priesthood there from memory of Aldradoc’s last visit, compared to the Druidic Assembly that duly inspires the kingdom of Calderon, Aldradoc was impressed with the Northerners’ trust in the Old Ways and refusal to accept the newer religions spreading across the lands south of Calderon. He had never wanted to declare war on those people, indeed he had intended only to retaliate in self defence when the first ships landed on Calderon’s beaches and local villages were attacked. All in all, he was pleased when he received a message from a Sovnskrine leader requesting peace.

“Are you all right my love?” The quiet, gentle voice of Lady Hanath pulled Aldradoc back into reality as she woke up beside him and anxiously questioned him.

Aldradoc turned and looked into his wife’s beautiful blue eyes.

“All the better for you being here beside me, my lady,” he said quietly, kissing her on the forehead, “If it wasn’t for your support and care I would have been driven mad long ago with the burdens of rulership.”

“You’re worried about these negotiations are you not?” She replied, slipping out of bed and gracefully wandering over to her dressing table, “I can always sense when you’re worried.”

“You’ve got me. I just can’t stop thinking something is going to go wrong over these next few days,” Aldradoc replied worriedly, “Tensions between the kingdoms are high already, and if we are not careful there will be more wars between us all, rather than fewer. It is fair to say that the rulers of all the realms do not trust each other, and the reason why is evident. You’ve seen yourself how unpredictable the Northmen of Sovnskrine are. What’s more, we will be playing host to the rowdy, bloodthirsty thugs of Dairann, the gruff industrialists from Skagaskon, the sinister barons of Duskhallow and the Schurs, who we all know are a family of all different characters with their own individual ideas on morality and civilised behaviour. Of course, there is also Queen Adelina Ewald, who is at least more focussed on trade and keeping the peace. At least she won’t be too hard to persuade.”

He arose from the bed also, and began to clothe himself in his most elaborate tunic, shoes, trousers and cloak, the latter of which was fastened with a golden bejewelled brooch bearing the triskellion emblem of Calderon, before fastening his sheathed sword to his belt and placing his ornate ceremonial helmet adorned with stag antlers upon his head. Hanath had chosen her long green dress for the event, which contrasted with her wavy auburn hair and pale complexion yet still enhanced her elegant, delicate beauty to a considerable degree. An emerald necklace adorned her neck and she wore a silver circlet, made by the finest silversmith in Calderon, upon her head.

Aldradoc offered his wife his hand.

“Are you ready my fairest?” He asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, taking his hand gently.

The pair left their bedchamber and walked along the landing past the grand staircase and headed over to a balcony that looked out over the walls, ramparts and ditches protecting the castle as well as the surrounding land. The weather was unexpectedly pleasant, with the birds singing and a pleasant breeze that gently billowed Aldradoc’s cloak and curled around Hanath’s long hair, making it appear to have a life of its own.

“By all the Gods! They are here already!” Aldradoc said quietly, with a hint of underlying anxiety.

Indeed as he looked out over the surrounding land, he spotted the retinues of the first dignitaries to arrive, already cantering along the road that led to Ravenscroft Castle despite it being so early in the morning. Leaving his wife for a moment, the Lord returned to the grand staircase and descended it, before travelling to the main gateway to receive his visitors.

Count Driden Defleur approaches the gatehouse. He rides in a carriage with a dark gothic style. As he pulls up to the stable he gets out, throws the stable boy two silver pieces and hands him the reins to the two jet black horse pulling it. His light blue eyes are a contrast to his appearance, yet they somehow end up menacing. Defleur’s jet black and silver cane holds a raven on top of it. The raven is made of pure obsidian and has ruby eyes. Defleur’s clothing is a dark black suit with a top hat sitting on his head

Four plated knights, retainers following behind, rode at the sides of a large armoured rider. One bore a standard of Dairann, a bloodied eagle clutching a long sabre in its talons surrounded by twisted vines which flickered in the breeze.

As the group approached the main gateway one of the knights leant in to speak to their leader who replied with a deep rumbling laugh that echoed across the morning air. The band's leader reached up and removed his helm, passing it to one of his retainers.

Victor Rosst glanced briefly around at the others before turning his attention to Ravensden.

"RAVENSDEN! YOU ARE LOOKING AS SEVERE AS EVER! MY LORD SENDS HIS GREETINGS AND HOPES THE COMFORTABLE LIFE HAS NOT MADE YOU TOO SOFT!" Rosst threw back his dark maned head and let loose a loud rolling laugh.

''Settle down, Marshall.'', Calmly said Lord Tisk while setting foot out of his caravan. ''There's no need to shout at this time of the day. Besides, I'm sure you'll have opportunity enough to deafen everyone during the dinner!''

Lord Barbissar Tisk, ignoring any further comment from the mounted knights, walks straight past them and goes to shake hands with Lord Ravensden.

''Some people have no manners in introducing themselves, especially young folks'' murmurs Tisk. ''Good to see you Lord Ravensden. Skagaskon is eager to negotiate trade deals that will surely benefit us all. Your hospitality is much appreciated.''

Stepping out of a modest caravan, Cordelia Rekkefølge quietly made her way over to Lord Ravensden.

“Lord Ravensden, my deepest apologies for the raids. The situation at Sovnscrine is far more complicated than most think, and I hope I can rectify the misconceptions that you may possess. In the mean time, I can assure you that the perpetrators have been punished, with many of them imprisoned, ready to be transferred to your custody for you to do as you see fit with them. Contrary to what you may think, this is not condoned in Sovnscrine. My deepest condolences for any losses, and I hope our trading will be successful”.

With her introduction made, she retired to a small stone outside the walls and away from the growing crowd, and gazed out onto the glistening waters that lay beyond.

-Echard Schur Stumbles forth from the carriage bearing his father's insignia. "Damn it, it is colder than a wenches hart out here. Why are we all loitering outside? Surely this marvel of a castle has a Hall and hearth we could warm ourselves with." Echard adjust his cloths in an attempt to conceal his wine-stained tunic. "Has anyone tried knocking?" Braving the glaring sun, Echard lift his gaze upwards and greets Aldradoc Ravensden with a shout, "Salutations my Good Lord".

Being some distance behind the other dignitaries that arrived at castle Ravenscroft, King Gheleon the IV stared wistfully at the passing foliage in a carriage decked in traditional Ironfell regalia. It was drawn by a white horse, with a single aide driving the carriage gently along the well-trodden path. The flaxen-haired man dwelt in his thoughts of home, already missing the crisp air that blew down from the mountains and through castle Falconreach. The land on the other side of the mountain range that separated Ironfell from Calderon was not so different than what Gheleon was used to, but it wasn't home. The king was broken from his reverie as his aide called out to his lord, "Ravenscroft is in sight, your majesty. We shall arrive there soon." Leaning his crowned head out of the carriage window, Gheleon replied, "Thank you, Galahad." Pulling his head back inside, the king readied himself both physically and mentally to meet the other dignitaries. Travel through the mountain pass was arduous and immensely dangerous, and the delegation from Ironfell had to travel around the range to arrive safely. Hopefully they had not arrived too late.

Pulling up some time later to the courtyard of the castle, Gheleon was pleased to notice that he had not been far behind at all — the others had already approached Aldradoc Ravensden and were making their introductions. With his carriage coming to a halt, the man stepped out onto the cobblestone courtyard and allowed himself a moment to take in his surroundings after having been essentially cooped up in a wooden box. Turning to his aide, Gheleon spoke aloud with his regal voice. "You are free to take the horse to the stables and our baggage inside. I am certain our host will provide ample lodging for each dignitary." Galahad bowed his head in acknowledgement, taking the reins of the horse and leading it towards the stables. Striding forward toward the rest, the king observed each dignitary to discern their identities. As Ironfell was a rather isolationist nation, Gheleon had not actually met many other than Lord Ravensden in person — as most simply sent messengers or other delegates to do business. For the time being, the king was content to stay quiet, as surely their host would do what he could to placate all those who had arrived and announce each delegate aloud.

Upon seeing Lord Gheleon’s arrival, Driden would approach him and say “Greetings, my name is Count Driden Defleur of DuskHallow, I have heard of your nation, and admire your exemplary moral standing.” Driden Defleur seems a little tense but tries his best to relax. He acts a little off, but from what Gheleon has heard of DuskHallow, it is to be expected. Many strange tales of DuskHallow are heard by other nations. Most of them aren’t true but a few have some evidence to support them.

While he had a moment of silence to himself, Gheleon spent it observing the castle of Ravenscroft towering above the dignitaries. It was immense; well-built and a testament to the craftmanship of the people of Calderon. Out of the corner of the king's eye, he spied one of the nobles breaking away from the group and walking forward to meet the recently arrived king. The noble was dressed in a sharp black suit and top hat, his visage accented by his light blue eyes and silver cane. He strode with purpose and elegance, the butt of the noble's cane clicking rhythmically as he drew near. The man greeted Gheleon, introducing himself as a Count of the nation of DuskHallow. Though seeming somewhat tense in his speech, the king mentally brushed it aside — many here today had been at odds with each other for many years. It would be strange for them all to not be even a little wary, despite here to plan a peace treaty. Gheleon smiled warmly and bowed his head respectfully in response to the complements given.

"Well met, Count Defleur. As you already must know, I am indeed Gheleon the IV of Ironfell. It pleases me to hear that we have a reputation of such quality among the people of DuskHallow. Forgive me for my ignorance, but I have heard little of your province other than what the merchants speak in my marketplace — mainly that it is dark and gloomy, with its black spires towering menacingly into the heavens." The king clasped his hands in a relaxed posture in front of him. "But if you are an apt representation of your people, then these rumours must be false indeed, as you are welcoming and a man of fine taste."

Looking further over the heads of the other dignitaries, Gheleon spotted Ravenscroft once again. "I have high hopes for the coming days," he commented openly, beginning to walk through the courtyard towards the others. The king motioned for Count Defleur to join him while they spoke further. "It has been long since our nations have been truly at peace. I trust that we are capable of putting aside our differences and work together for the betterment of all."

Defleur would follow him. Slowly approaching behind him quite awkwardly. He began to speak saying “Yes, my nation longs for peace, we have enough issues of our own, sinister issues.” His tone drops to a dark and sinister tone “not all of the rumored you have heard are false, many strange things happen at DuskHallow”. His attitude abruptly lightens again and he exclaims joyously “I wish upon the dearest sympathies of my heart that the negotiations go well, I would hate for something to impede them.” He then straightens his top hat and awkwardly leans on his cane as if he is trying to act like the others, though this effort fails horribly. The obsidian raven gleams menacingly and it’s eyes seem to pierce Gheleon’s very soul. Defleur look around cautiously to make sure nobody is listening and says “Between you and me, I don’t think all of these people are truly here for peace, I fear that a saboteur lurks amongst us. I do not know who but something is off about these people. I fear the worst.” He then stands up straighter and you can see that the raven on his cane slightly turns as if it were to unscrew a little bit. Delfeur, noticing this, straightens the raven, bows, and walks off.

Aldradoc, when met by the Count of Duskhallow, readjusted his helmet, as it had slipped back over his head, and gave him a cautionary yet respectful nod. His father Carados had warned him of the people of Duskhallow, and Aldradoc now knew why. He was unsure of whether the man truly intended to be polite, whether he was mocking him or if he had alterior, more sinister motives in mind. In any case, he was still an honoured dignitary, and should still be treated with the utmost respect and diligence, as the good people of Calderon had always done. He bade him welcome and commanded two of his chainmail-clad warrior guards to escort the black gothic carriage as it clattered over the stone bridge that separated the gatehouse from the main castle.

Upon the arrival of the booming knights of Dairann, Aldradoc bristled a little. Victor Rosst had not been too impolite in his introduction, but the disdain toward Calderon's civilised and cultured ways of life was evident to hear in the big knight's voice. Of course he, a Dairann warmonger, would think the people of Calderon to be spineless and weak simply because they had evolved from their ancestral tribal heritage into something far more structured. But then, he would see differently when he would come hear of the bards' tales of deeds past later this evening. Aldradoc planned to make sure that they would come to give him the best sagas of derring-do he would ever hear, especially with the most recent wars against the raiders from Sovnskrine. Those brutal battles would give even a knight of Dairann a chill down the spine.

Before he could answer the knight, however, Aldradoc was approached by Barbissar Tisk of Skagaskon, the land to the east of Calderon. Aldradoc had been especially anxious to reach a settlement with him as Skagaskon and Calderon had been in an uneasy neutrality for a long time, certainly since Aldradoc was a boy. He often used to hear old Carados thundering with rage about "that smoke-filled realm beyond the mountains". When Barbissar approached him, Aldradoc firmly shook the man's hand when he so politely offered it, and was impressed at his enthusiasm about the coming trade discussions.

"I thank you indeed for your compliments, and please allow my strongest warriors to escort you to our Great Hall! Why there, you will only experience a fraction of what true Calderon hospitality is, and I hope you will truly enjoy your stay!"

As the Skagaskon retinue left to cross the bridge into the castle, Aldradoc was approached by yet another dignitary, this time a rather young and plain-looking woman. She was garbed in thick fur clothes such that Aldradoc was a little concerned she would overheat in the temperate Calderon weather, but she showed no sign of this as she introduced herself as an emissary from Sovnskrine. When he heard that the raids has been perpetrated without consent of the ruling bodies, most of his hostility toward the islands of the north started to fade away.

"I would be most pleased to see these prisoners, and make sure they are suitably punished too. I imagine we can use them to bargain a settlement," he reassured the girl, before leaving her to her thoughts and turning to witness a great clattering and cacophony as Echard Schur tumbled out of his carriage, evidently drunk, and introduced himself.

"Greetings indeed Echard, by all means there is indeed a hearth, and my protectors will escort you there now, " he said to him with a little disdain, for even though most people of Calderon loved their wine as much as the next man, Aldradoc was not among them, and was concerned that it made his people more aggressive like his tribal ancestors used to be. As the intoxicated Schur noble was helped to his feet and escorted away, he called his Life-Ward, Elduroc, who had been standing guard at the gatehouse with his double-handed sword, to his side where he confided to him,

"Make sure Echard Schur over there doesn't have more than a single flagon of wine at the feast, he already seems to have had too much as it is."

The big man nodded assuredly and strode off to follow the guards assisting Echard.

Aldradoc then proceeded to look around to see if there were any other dignitaries arriving. Yes, there was just one left, conversing with Count Defleur. It was King Gheleon IV of Ironfell, the realm to the north of Calderon. Once the king had finished conversing with Defleur, he turned and greeted Aldradoc warmly.

"I had honestly forgotten you were coming, my friend," Aldradoc greeted him, "Ironfell keeps so quiet these days I often forget that you are actually neighbouring me at all! How have things been keeping?"

Pausing in his chat to Gheleon at the sound of the Dairann knights still hollering to each other, Aldradoc hailed them, “Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen, some of my guards will see to your horses and escort you to the Great Hall.”

He then motioned for several of his heavily-armoured warriors to march over to the knights and see to their needs before turning back to Gheleon.

“It seems that so much of the world no longer respects civilised behaviour,” he then said to him quietly, “Would you say our two kingdoms are all that is left of the utopian realm the Forefathers had intended to create?”

Echard readjust his disheveled clothes and speaks ambiently to the room, "Heavens above, did you see the size of the man who escorted me?" Echard thumbs over his shoulder in the direction of a large man who he failed to learn was called Elduroc. "I suppose they take our hallway safety very seriously here."

Continuing to walk and speak with Defleur, the two men approached the other dignitaries and the count dropped his tone as they neared them. He spoke of dark things at Duskhallow and revealed a shadow of doubt he had for the negotiations to come. The king's blue eyes did not miss Defleur's cane, concluding that it may not be just a simple ceremonial walking stick. However, this did not bother Gheleon — seeing as he had his own sword sheathed in plain sight on his hip. Bowing his crowned head in response to the Count's respectful gesture, the king turned his attention to Aldradoc as the host addressed him with a warm greeting.

Smiling wide in response, Gheleon chuckled deeply before replying. Despite living with a mountain range between their nations, Calderon was one of the few provinces that remained in excellent standing with Ironfell. "Things have been keeping well, Lord Ravensden. Our crops of late have been rich, and the woods have been teeming with game. However, many among my people wish that —"

The king was suddenly interrupted by the brazen shouting of Victor Rosst. Turning his head, Gheleon cast a gaze upon the delegate from Dairann with a subtle hint of distaste. As a whole, Ironfell held a distaste of war — and their king reflected this sentiment. Relations between their two nations had been less than favourable, as Dairann was known to be a militaristic province. Some within Gheleon's land would go so far as to call them bloodthirsty warmongers, though the king would not go so far as to hold the same view. He decided to say nothing in response, allowing their host to see to Rosst's needs before continuing the conversation.

"Mmh, each nation has their own notion of what is civilized and what is not," Gheleon replied nonchalantly, but nodding sagely to Aldradoc's second statement. "I believe our Forefathers intended many things," he replied, sighing deeply in contemplation. "But let us take hope. These negotiations could be the beginning of a new Golden Age." As they walked closer to the gates leading inside the looming castle before them, the king looked up towards its spires that reached into the sunny sky. "Peace in our time."

Defleur would approach Lord Ravensden. He would say “This is a very exquisite castle you have, may you be so kind as to show me to the guest quarters? My servants have been waiting by the carriage and are awaiting my command to bring in my items”. Defleur reaches into his suit and pulls out golden ring with a ruby in it. He says “But before we depart please accept this token of DuskHallow’s gratitude for your hard work in aiding in the peace negotiations.” Defleur hands the ring to Lord Ravensden.

He was just about to follow the dignitaries into the Great Hall when he was approached by Driden Defleur, who presented him with a ring with a single ruby set inside it. Aldradoc was intrigued by the craftsmanship of the ring, and accepted it warmly.

“I thank you for your kind gesture, Count,” Aldradoc replied to him as he took the ring, “This ring will be a symbol of peace between yours and mine.”

He then placed it securely inside a small pouch hanging from his belt, where it would be safe. He would add it to his private museum of artefacts that was hidden in the rarely-visited south wing of Ravenscroft once all this business was over.

Seeing that the last of the dignitaries were being escorted through the main doors of the castle keep, Aldradoc looked out through the Gateway once more for any sign of Queen Adelina Ewald, for her pacifist nature would be a great help in keeping these talks from getting out of hand. Alas, the sun was starting to dip in the sky, and there was no sign of ny additional retinues approaching. Realising with a grim resolve that she would not be attending, Aldradoc finally ordered his guards to close and lock the gates of the castle before reentering the keep also. As he made his way to the Great Hall, he was rejoined by Lady Hanath, who was also on her way there.

“There you are!” She said, relieved to find her husband again, “I have instructed the cooks to start preparing the welcome feast and all the guests are waiting in the Great Hall for us. Barrivendos is in his room playing and his Life-Ward is supervising him, so he won’t be part to this fearful noise down here.”

“Thank you my love, I knew you would be able to help sort everything out,” Aldradoc replied, kissing his wife gently on the lips before entering the Great Hall with her.

The table in the Great Hall was unusual in that it had a square shape - Aldradoc had made this so so as to conjure a feeling of equality among the dignitaries so that nobody would see it as an excuse to proclaim themselves superior to any other. The far side of the table would be where he and Hanath sat together to begin the proceedings. Meanwhile, the other dignitaries were sat around the other three sides of the table. Count Driden Defleur was just taking a seat on the side nearest to the doors next to the still-drunk Echard Schur, who was being monitored by Elduroc from not too far away to make sure he didn’t cause any trouble. To the right of them sat Victor Rosst of Dairann, who was flanked by two of his comrades, one on either side, while the fourth knight stood behind with a concerned look on his face. Next to him was King Gheleon, who looked a little unimpressed at having to sit on the same side of the table as the rowdy knights, but Aldradoc had ensured he was put there because he trusted Gheleon the most - if anyone could calm down Rosst and his companions, a reliable man like Gheleon would be a good bet to make sure things didn’t get out of hand. Finally, opposite him, his coachman and the knights of Dairann sat Cordelia Rekkefølge and Barbissar Tisk, who were talking to each other pleasantly.

As Aldradoc and his wife reached their seats and sat down, all the dignitaries fell silent. Even Echard Schur, who was still muttering drunken ravings about rhubarb and Dairannese women, looked around at all the other dignitaries and quietened down, wondering why all the others had stopped talking. It was then that Aldradoc chose to speak once more.

“My friends, my family and I welcome you all to Ravenscroft, the seat of my ancestors. Indeed all of Calderon welcomes each of you to this meeting, and I hope that together, we can end what has now been nearly a century of various wars and bloodshed between our various kingdoms. In any case, that can all begin on the morrow. For the rest of this evening, you are free to enjoy everything that Calderon has to offer you in this very room, and here it comes now...”

Indeed as he spoke, the Lord’s servants arrived with the first of the courses for the feast, with dishes sure to appease every taste placed in front of the dignitaries. Aldradoc signalled with his hands, and a quartet of the finest bards of Calderon appeared at the back of the Great Hall, where they prepared their instruments and began to play a rousing piece known to every man, woman and child of Calderon.

Defleur would hand his top hat to a nearby servant and proceed towards his seat. He would roll his eyes when he sees who is to sit beside him. When Aldradoc announces the feast to begin, he would thank the servants for the food and start to eat.

Tisk, being led to the Great Hall, sat next to a beautiful young woman he came to know was Cordelia Rekkefølge, from Sovnscrine. Due to the hazardous landscape between their lands, Skagaskon had not suffered many attacks from the Sovnscrinian raids, and those brave, or fool enough, to take the journey through the vast mountain range were either killed by the dangerous weather, or weakened enough by it to show little resistance when met by Skagaskon patrols. He felt no tension between their kingdoms, seeing these incursions as what they really were: isolated rebellous movements from angry citizens. He did not however know what could motivate such demeanor, and was curious to hear what was going on in Sovnscrine.

Cordially greeting Cordelia, Tisk engaged conversation with her about how she thought the weather was here compared to the far north, then using small talk slowly mentionned possible trade routes between their kingdoms and finally made one comment about the possible dangers for such trading agreements:

''Skagaskon would, of course, assure safety to merchants and caravaners as soon as they got in the territory, and I assume Sovnscrine would have no trouble providing the same safety, isn't that right?''

Hearing what Cordelia had to say on the matter with fascination and curiosity, Tisk quickly noticed lord Ravensden had entered the room and taken place at the table and was about to adress the guests. Tisk politely invited Cordelia to pursue talks at a later time and they both listened to what their host had to say.